Fill - Beneath Me 2/?
anonymous
August 15 2011, 04:48:47 UTC
“Your old room has been prepared for you, sir.” The butler tells Charles as he leads the way up the stairs.
“Thank you,” Charles is still distracted by the display in the courtyard. He can't imagine his father putting up with that sort of behavior from a servant. “Please tell my father that I'll be right down.”
“Lord Xavier isn't here at the moment. He said to tell you he'd return in a few day's time.”
“Oh,” Charles feels defeated somehow. He isn't sure what he expected, but he at least expected his father to be here to...To what? Welcome him? The notion is ridiculous.
He sighs and nods. “I'd like a bath, please.”
“Right away, sir. I'll have the water sent up.” The butler goes out.
Charles discards his gloves. At least he can do away with some of society's niceties while he's here. He tugs at his collar, loosening it when there's a bump at the door. Charles barely gets it open before the stable hand is stepping inside, a suitcase in each hand.
“He told me to bring these up.” The man looks at him then. His eyes are startlingly attractive, and for a moment Charles is lost just looking at them.
“Oh.” Charles manages. “Put those right over there.” He gestures to the corner near the wardrobe. The stable hand carries them over and drops them on the floor without another look. “Careful,” Charles says, more sharply than he means to. His books are in there.
The stable hand's lips twist slightly, “Sorry, sir.” It's not a title of respect coming from him. “I'll just bring up the rest.” He leaves.
Charles has his jacket off and is working on his cufflinks by the time the man is back the second time. This time he lowers the bags to the ground slowly.
“Thank you.” Charles says distractedly, focused on his cufflinks. He can never manage to get them unfastened. It's a wonder he ever bothers with them at all. Usually Raven's here to help, but now... He bites his lip in frustration.
A hand touches his wrist as deft fingers work at the troublesome item. Charles is so shocked he can't breathe as the stable hand (damn, what was his name, Erik? Yes, Erik.) gets his first wrist free, and casually continues to the other. He does it calmly and efficiently. His fingers are slender and long, almost elegant... even if they are slightly dirty. The man himself smells of leather, smoke, sweat, summer air, and horses. It's a heady aroma, that for some completely inexplicable reason makes Charles's harden slightly in his trousers.
He's embarrassed beyond measure by this and pulls away from the man as though he's been burned. “Thank you, I can manage.”
“Course you can,” Erik smiles slightly, a flash of white teeth, “I'd wager you're not as useless as you look.”
Charles feels as though he's been slapped. “How dare you speak to me like that.”
Fill - Beneath Me 3/?
anonymous
August 15 2011, 04:49:40 UTC
The footman brings up the basin and fills it with water after that. Charles soaks for as long as the water stays reasonably warm. He still can't account for the man's touching him like that, so intimately. And as for his own reaction, well. Charles rubs his hands over his face tiredly.
He's been attracted to men before, but never quite so openly. Never so immediate. He scrubs at his face determinedly. It will not happen again.
Charles puts on his nightshirt, and robe, and goes downstairs. He partakes of some of the food the butler's had left out for him in the silent, empty dining room. The cold beef and potatoes is well-cooked, but Charles has little appetite. Time ticks by slowly as he eats. He wishes, not for the first time, that Raven were here.
Afterward, he ventures into his father's study and finds man's brandy standing in its usual spot on the sideboard. At least some things never change. Charles pours a liberal amount into a glass before continuing on to the library. He peruses the shelves for a while, searching randomly for something to take his mind off the day's events. He has his textbooks of course, but tonight, Charles feels he's earned a treat. At last he selects a collection of short stories, nothing too taxing, and carries it off to his room with his brandy.
Charles settles down under his covers comfortably and reads. From time to time he takes a sip of brandy. After a while the fatigue of the journey finally overtakes him, and he sets the book aside. Downing the last sip of brandy, he finally turns dims the lamp and goes to sleep.
The morning sunlight wakes Charles far earlier than he intended to rise. He lies there in bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. His father's absence from the house has thrown him momentarily from his intention to ask him if he could return to London. And yet, it casts a certain relaxed air over the household that makes Charles feel as though his time is free of any constrictions or obligations whatsoever. It's an entirely new sensation, and one he feels certain he should take advantage of.
Charles decides, abruptly, to go for a ride. Ringing the bell, he gets out of bed and starts getting dressed.
“Sir?” The butler is there in the doorway.
“Have a horse saddled and ready. I wish to go for a ride.”
“Before breakfast, sir?"
"Yes," Charles says firmly. "Before breakfast."
"Very well, sir.” There's an unspoken sigh in the butler's words, but he goes all the same.
Charles finishes dressing and goes downstairs to the courtyard. The morning is fresh and crisp, the dew still fresh upon the lawn.
His horse is waiting by the watering trough. Erik's holding the reins loosely, as he leans down to scoop up a handful of water to splash on his face. Rivulets of water trickle down his throat, dampening the collar of his shirt. He straightens up as he looks up to see Charles approaching.
“Morning, sir.” Erik murmurs, stroking the horse's nose.
Charles mounts without a word. He's still annoyed over the man's remark last night.
Erik reaches up to hand over the reins. Charles's fingers brush over his as he takes them, and Erik looks up. Charles stills, caught once more by those devastating sea green eyes.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, finally pulling back.
Erik nods, looking at him silently. He steps back, watching as Charles rides off.
Fill - Beneath Me 4/?
anonymous
August 16 2011, 04:38:22 UTC
Charles rides along the familiar path beside the forest. It hasn't changed over the last year, each curve and twist the same as always. He wonders if anything has changed at all. Besides his father's inclination to hire lax servants. Try as he might, Charles can't keep his thoughts away from the stable hand for long. Whatever Charles's thinking about, whether it's his father, his career, regardless of the topic, it eventually drags him straight back to the man, like pure magnetism.
Damn the man. Damn his beautiful eyes.
Charles sighs and turns his mount toward town. He'll ride into town and see if it's remained the same as well. He will definitely not spend the time thinking about the stable hand.
The village of Woodbridge has stayed exactly the same, much to Charles's disappointment. Nothing has changed. The family doctor recognizes him, waving at him in a friendly fashion as he strolls along the village lane.
Charles waves in return, but doesn't stop. Time enough for that. No doubt his father already has several social engagements lined up as soon as he returns. The mere idea makes Charles weary.
He takes the long way home, weaving around the river instead of the forest this time. The sunshine is hot upon his shoulders, making him long to be home, settled in the quiet coolness of the library with a drink.
As he nears the curve of the river that is a half-mile from the house, he pulls his horse up short. staring at the river There, to his astonishment, is Erik. Erik. Swimming. Naked. Each stroke shows the strength of his shoulders as he travels through the water. His body dips beneath the water and surfaces again, teasing Charles with a glimpse of the lower half of his torso.
Charles swallows hoarsely. He shouldn't be watching this; he should be riding on and forgetting it. Or, more likely, reprimanding the man for being so brazenly disrespectful in broad daylight... Whatever thoughts Charles was having fade away just then as Erik swims over to the bank and hauls himself up out of the water. Droplets course down his body, dripping from his chest tanned from the sun, to his muscled thighs, lean and strong like the rest of him. He's the most attractive thing Charles has seen in a long time. And the fact that he's so shameless with his body, as he stands there in the sunlight, reaching for his shirt. It makes Charles's breeches tighten as his cock stirs enthusiastically. He shifts slightly in his seat, attempting to ease his discomfort, and his horse idiotically takes this as encouragement to step forward into view.
Fill - Beneath Me 5/?
anonymous
August 16 2011, 04:39:23 UTC
Erik pauses in the process of drying the back of his neck with his shirt. He watches silently as Charles approaches.
Charles doesn't know what to say, but he's desperately aware he should be saying something. “Anyone can see you from the road,” is what he comes up with at last.
Erik commences drying himself again. “So they can.” Apparently he's not bothered by this. His cock's definitely not bothered, Charles can tell. Christ, he should not be staring at the man's cock. But it's right there in front of him, and it's practically begging to be touched. He wonders what it would feel like, to wrap his fingers around Erik's length and stroke him.
Charles swallows. “Remember that next time.” He says curtly.
Erik pulls his shirt on, before turning his back to reach for his breeches. Oh lord, his ass. Charles is going to the devil for openly ogling his half-naked servant. The man's practically presenting it to him as he pulls his trousers on. Two perfect pale globes, begging to be held, palmed, bitten. Charles is sweating profusely as he sits there atop his horse, but it's not the heat of the sun that's bothering him. Finally, the unbearable perfection of Erik's ass is covered once more and Charles can breathe again at last.
“Are you saying I should mind when I swim, to make sure none of the villagers catch me bare-arsed, or,” Erik pauses, squinting up at Charles thoughtfully, “are you telling me to invite you along next time if there's no one around to catch you?”
“Don't make outlandish suggestions,” Charles says icily. Really, the man's insolence is unpardonable.
Erik shrugs. “I was only asking.”
“What I was trying to say,” Charles takes a deep breath, “is if it had been my father riding along just now, you'd be sacked without a reference. I trust I make myself clear.”
Erik straightens up, the insouciant slant to his shoulders gone. “Perfectly, sir.” His voice is serious as he looks up at Charles.
“Good,” Charles nods at him and rides on. He can feel the man's gaze following him long after he's ridden out of sight.
Fill - Beneath Me 6/?
anonymous
August 19 2011, 03:01:43 UTC
Charles rides back at the house more quickly than is probably good for his horse. He dismounts, and pauses for a second, leaning his forehead against the horse's flank. It's a relief to be out of the sun at last. The damn stable hand isn't here of course, so he unsaddles the horse and the animal down himself. All the while having a quiet, angry conversation with the beast.
Never around when you need the man.
Whinny.
Thinks he get out of doing his work by flaunting his ass at me.
Neigh.
The horse nickers at him softly and Charles laughs to himself. “I know, I know. It isn't very gentlemanly of me to talk like this, but the man infuriates me so.” The horse, Charles really should know its name, just whinnies. Charles pats its neck and goes inside.
There's a trail of sweat down his back, damp and uncomfortable. As soon as he's safely in his own room, he strips down to his drawers and falls upon the bed with a sigh of relief. The room is still too warm. He feels lethargic, sticky and damp with sweat. He should have one of the servants bring up water for a bath, but he's too lazy at the moment. Charles closes his eyes and lets the heat seep over him.
Erik cutting broad strokes through the glistening water. Erik, standing there, the sunlight shining through his shirt, with his cock jutting out from underneath it like it has no reason to hide. Erik turning his back, as though it doesn't matter in the slightest if Charles gazes at his ass.
His cock, Charles licks his lips but keeps his eyes closed, it looked eager, bobbing hungrily, seeking attention. Hard and full, curving upward to his belly, dripping already with pre-come.
Charles's hand eases inside his drawers easily, as he keeps his eyes closed. Taking hold of himself, he strokes his cock quickly, rubbing his thumb over the slit as he thinks about earlier. Imagining it's Erik's cock, he's touching, and tugging, stroking harder and harder. It's all too easy to come simply from thinking about Erik's cock.
As he spills over his belly, Charles sighs in the silence. He wipes his hand on his drawers and falls prey to the drowsy afternoon heat.
Fill - Beneath Me 7/?
anonymous
August 19 2011, 03:06:41 UTC
Charles wakes at last to the sound of someone knocking at the door. It feels like hours later. He's sticky and tired, and wishes the person at the door would just go away.
“Yes?” Charles sits up, looking at his hand in disgust. He needs a wash.
“Sir, dinner is ready,” the butler's voice comes through the door.
“I'll be down in a moment.” Charles pushes himself to his feet. He'll wash and change and then dinner.
“Your father is waiting.”
“What?” Charles stops dead in the middle of the room.
“Your father arrived a little over an hour ago, sir. He's waiting dinner.”
“Oh, damn.” Charles stumbles over to the basin and starts washing hurriedly. His head aches from being out in the in the sun, and he's still sweaty and sticky. He washes his face and arms hurriedly, puts on clean drawers and dresses as quickly as possible.
It's not soon enough for his father of course, who eyes him disapprovingly as he sinks into his seat.
“Your cravat is crooked, Charles.”
Charles straightens it automatically. “Sir.”
There's silence as they begin the meal. Charles wonders where his father was, and why he came back early, and when is the right moment to broach the subject of him returning to London for the rest of the summer. He watches his father carefully as he cuts his meat.
“Did you have a good trip?”
“Tolerable.” His father takes a sip of wine. “Charles, while you're here over the summer, I expect you to be prompt for meals. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Charles says automatically. He feels as though he's twelve again and about to be punished for coming to the table with dirty hands. “Sir, I,”
“I also expect you to lend a hand in helping me oversee the estate. The tenants in the hill cottage are behind on their rent. They need to pay, or be evicted. The wall to the north field needs repairing. The gardener will see to that, but the man can be terribly idle if left alone, so you'll have to watch him. And then,”
“I'd like to talk to you about that,” Charles gets in.
“Yes?”
“About me staying for the whole of the summer.”
“What is it, Charles?” His father takes another sip of wine, waiting.
'”It's just...I thought I'd get more studying done if I were in London for the summer, what with the proximity to the libraries and all, and if I want to keep my studies up,” he trails off. The look his father's giving him is not hopeful.
“Charles, you're only at the university because it's what your mother wished you to do. When your studies are done, you'll still be inheriting the title and estate, so it matters very little how you do at them.”
Heat floods Charles's cheeks, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. It won't do any good to speak up, but he can't bear the thought of being here all summer. His father's continuing like he hasn't just crushed his son's hopes. “Besides, you need to be here for the summer, so that I can get the marriage contract completely settled.”
Charles freezes. He must have heard wrong. “Pardon me?”
“It's high time you were married, Charles. I've been in discussion with a few acquaintances with suitable daughters. I can assure you that I will find you a good match by the end of the summer.”
“But I don't...” Charles stutters into silence. He can't believe this.
“Yes, Charles?”
“I don't want to get married.” Charles blurts out.
He has his father's full attention now. Unfortunately, that's never a pleasant thing. “It hardly matters, Charles. You'll get married, and you'll settle down. Is that understood?”
Charles is silent. His hands are clenched tightly against his thighs. He's afraid if he speaks, he'll never be able to stop.
“Charles?” There's a sharp note in his father's voice. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Charles's voice is barely above a whisper.
Fill - Beneath Me 8/?
anonymous
August 21 2011, 21:43:12 UTC
Charles is so furious he can barely eat. He chokes down a few mouthfuls. The food has no taste in his mouth. The way his father simply just informed him he'd be getting married. This is how it will be, so there's no point discussing it. It's the way his father's always been. He should never have expected anything else.
“If I may be excused,” he says at last, “I think I'll go for a walk before retiring.”
His father barely nods in acknowledgment. Charles goes out into the corridor. His hands are trembling with rage. The unfairness of it takes his breath away.
He stands in the courtyard, trying to breathe calmly, but there's only despair welling up inside him. His attention is caught by the figure standing outside the stables. Erik is having a smoke in the twilight. He looks across the cobblestones at Charles. It's hard to discern his expression in the dusk, but there's no mistaking the casual disrespect in the man's stance. Charles crosses the courtyard before he's aware that he even intends to approach the man.
“You could start a fire with that.”
“I haven't yet.” Erik points out. He's well away from the stable door, but a stray piece of straw, a bit of sacking, anything could catch easily and the whole of the stables would go up in flames.
“Put it out,” Charles commands.
Erik looks at him, and says “I'd like to see you make me.” He blows a perfect smoke ring up into the night air.
Calmly, Charles takes the cigarette from his fingers and tosses it in the horse's trough.
“That was my last one,” Erik looks at him indignantly.
“Good.” Charles says. His doesn't feel as triumphant as he'd hoped. Erik's just glaring at him, his fists clenched, but not making a move. The man's unwilling to be the first one to cross the line physically. More than willing to do so with his words, Charles thinks bitterly. Wait, that's not true. He'd touched Charles first with the cufflinks. Erik started this.
“If I catch you smoking near the stables again, I'll,”
“You'll what?” Erik leans in insolently.
Charles punches him, or he would have if Erik hadn't caught the blow, propelling him back into the stables. They wrestle awkwardly across the stable floor. Erik gets a blow in, but Charles blocks the next one. They roll over the floor, grasping and pulling at each other.
Erik lands on top the second time. He pins Charles to the floor, nudging a leg between his legs, pressing his knee to Charles's crotch warningly. Charles stills beneath him, panting. Erik's breath is ragged in the silent stable. They stare at each other and everything goes still around them. In this instant, Charles knows Erik is everything he can never have, someone he can want simply because he wants them. Everything his father loathes and wants to keep him from.
So in a moment of desperate childish rebellion, Charles does the unthinkable. He reaches up to kiss Erik, whose mouth moves open in startled surprise, but then he kisses back. Charles's mouth is wet and eager as it devours Erik's. Their tongues meet and dance, caressing each other heatedly.
The knee on his crotch is still there, Charles rubs against it automatically, trying not to groan as he does. Then it shifts and Erik's hand is there instead, palming him through his trousers.
“Thank you,” Charles is still distracted by the display in the courtyard. He can't imagine his father putting up with that sort of behavior from a servant. “Please tell my father that I'll be right down.”
“Lord Xavier isn't here at the moment. He said to tell you he'd return in a few day's time.”
“Oh,” Charles feels defeated somehow. He isn't sure what he expected, but he at least expected his father to be here to...To what? Welcome him? The notion is ridiculous.
He sighs and nods. “I'd like a bath, please.”
“Right away, sir. I'll have the water sent up.” The butler goes out.
Charles discards his gloves. At least he can do away with some of society's niceties while he's here. He tugs at his collar, loosening it when there's a bump at the door. Charles barely gets it open before the stable hand is stepping inside, a suitcase in each hand.
“He told me to bring these up.” The man looks at him then. His eyes are startlingly attractive, and for a moment Charles is lost just looking at them.
“Oh.” Charles manages. “Put those right over there.” He gestures to the corner near the wardrobe. The stable hand carries them over and drops them on the floor without another look. “Careful,” Charles says, more sharply than he means to. His books are in there.
The stable hand's lips twist slightly, “Sorry, sir.” It's not a title of respect coming from him. “I'll just bring up the rest.” He leaves.
Charles has his jacket off and is working on his cufflinks by the time the man is back the second time. This time he lowers the bags to the ground slowly.
“Thank you.” Charles says distractedly, focused on his cufflinks. He can never manage to get them unfastened. It's a wonder he ever bothers with them at all. Usually Raven's here to help, but now... He bites his lip in frustration.
A hand touches his wrist as deft fingers work at the troublesome item. Charles is so shocked he can't breathe as the stable hand (damn, what was his name, Erik? Yes, Erik.) gets his first wrist free, and casually continues to the other. He does it calmly and efficiently. His fingers are slender and long, almost elegant... even if they are slightly dirty. The man himself smells of leather, smoke, sweat, summer air, and horses. It's a heady aroma, that for some completely inexplicable reason makes Charles's harden slightly in his trousers.
He's embarrassed beyond measure by this and pulls away from the man as though he's been burned. “Thank you, I can manage.”
“Course you can,” Erik smiles slightly, a flash of white teeth, “I'd wager you're not as useless as you look.”
Charles feels as though he's been slapped. “How dare you speak to me like that.”
The stable hand straightens. “Apologies, sir.”
“Get out.” Charles snaps, his temper rising.
The man leaves the room without another word.
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He's been attracted to men before, but never quite so openly. Never so immediate. He scrubs at his face determinedly. It will not happen again.
Charles puts on his nightshirt, and robe, and goes downstairs. He partakes of some of the food the butler's had left out for him in the silent, empty dining room. The cold beef and potatoes is well-cooked, but Charles has little appetite. Time ticks by slowly as he eats. He wishes, not for the first time, that Raven were here.
Afterward, he ventures into his father's study and finds man's brandy standing in its usual spot on the sideboard. At least some things never change. Charles pours a liberal amount into a glass before continuing on to the library. He peruses the shelves for a while, searching randomly for something to take his mind off the day's events. He has his textbooks of course, but tonight, Charles feels he's earned a treat. At last he selects a collection of short stories, nothing too taxing, and carries it off to his room with his brandy.
Charles settles down under his covers comfortably and reads. From time to time he takes a sip of brandy. After a while the fatigue of the journey finally overtakes him, and he sets the book aside. Downing the last sip of brandy, he finally turns dims the lamp and goes to sleep.
The morning sunlight wakes Charles far earlier than he intended to rise. He lies there in bed, staring at the ceiling aimlessly. His father's absence from the house has thrown him momentarily from his intention to ask him if he could return to London. And yet, it casts a certain relaxed air over the household that makes Charles feel as though his time is free of any constrictions or obligations whatsoever. It's an entirely new sensation, and one he feels certain he should take advantage of.
Charles decides, abruptly, to go for a ride. Ringing the bell, he gets out of bed and starts getting dressed.
“Sir?” The butler is there in the doorway.
“Have a horse saddled and ready. I wish to go for a ride.”
“Before breakfast, sir?"
"Yes," Charles says firmly. "Before breakfast."
"Very well, sir.” There's an unspoken sigh in the butler's words, but he goes all the same.
Charles finishes dressing and goes downstairs to the courtyard. The morning is fresh and crisp, the dew still fresh upon the lawn.
His horse is waiting by the watering trough. Erik's holding the reins loosely, as he leans down to scoop up a handful of water to splash on his face. Rivulets of water trickle down his throat, dampening the collar of his shirt. He straightens up as he looks up to see Charles approaching.
“Morning, sir.” Erik murmurs, stroking the horse's nose.
Charles mounts without a word. He's still annoyed over the man's remark last night.
Erik reaches up to hand over the reins. Charles's fingers brush over his as he takes them, and Erik looks up. Charles stills, caught once more by those devastating sea green eyes.
“Thank you,” he murmurs, finally pulling back.
Erik nods, looking at him silently. He steps back, watching as Charles rides off.
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Seriously though, I am SO HAPPY that you're doing this fill and doing such a sexy job of it. MOAR SOON PLZ!
PS: PRETTY EYED STABLEHAND ERIK UNNGGGGHHHH
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Damn the man. Damn his beautiful eyes.
Charles sighs and turns his mount toward town. He'll ride into town and see if it's remained the same as well. He will definitely not spend the time thinking about the stable hand.
The village of Woodbridge has stayed exactly the same, much to Charles's disappointment. Nothing has changed. The family doctor recognizes him, waving at him in a friendly fashion as he strolls along the village lane.
Charles waves in return, but doesn't stop. Time enough for that. No doubt his father already has several social engagements lined up as soon as he returns. The mere idea makes Charles weary.
He takes the long way home, weaving around the river instead of the forest this time. The sunshine is hot upon his shoulders, making him long to be home, settled in the quiet coolness of the library with a drink.
As he nears the curve of the river that is a half-mile from the house, he pulls his horse up short. staring at the river There, to his astonishment, is Erik. Erik. Swimming. Naked. Each stroke shows the strength of his shoulders as he travels through the water. His body dips beneath the water and surfaces again, teasing Charles with a glimpse of the lower half of his torso.
Charles swallows hoarsely. He shouldn't be watching this; he should be riding on and forgetting it. Or, more likely, reprimanding the man for being so brazenly disrespectful in broad daylight... Whatever thoughts Charles was having fade away just then as Erik swims over to the bank and hauls himself up out of the water. Droplets course down his body, dripping from his chest tanned from the sun, to his muscled thighs, lean and strong like the rest of him. He's the most attractive thing Charles has seen in a long time. And the fact that he's so shameless with his body, as he stands there in the sunlight, reaching for his shirt. It makes Charles's breeches tighten as his cock stirs enthusiastically. He shifts slightly in his seat, attempting to ease his discomfort, and his horse idiotically takes this as encouragement to step forward into view.
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Charles doesn't know what to say, but he's desperately aware he should be saying something. “Anyone can see you from the road,” is what he comes up with at last.
Erik commences drying himself again. “So they can.” Apparently he's not bothered by this. His cock's definitely not bothered, Charles can tell. Christ, he should not be staring at the man's cock. But it's right there in front of him, and it's practically begging to be touched. He wonders what it would feel like, to wrap his fingers around Erik's length and stroke him.
Charles swallows. “Remember that next time.” He says curtly.
Erik pulls his shirt on, before turning his back to reach for his breeches. Oh lord, his ass. Charles is going to the devil for openly ogling his half-naked servant. The man's practically presenting it to him as he pulls his trousers on. Two perfect pale globes, begging to be held, palmed, bitten. Charles is sweating profusely as he sits there atop his horse, but it's not the heat of the sun that's bothering him. Finally, the unbearable perfection of Erik's ass is covered once more and Charles can breathe again at last.
“Are you saying I should mind when I swim, to make sure none of the villagers catch me bare-arsed, or,” Erik pauses, squinting up at Charles thoughtfully, “are you telling me to invite you along next time if there's no one around to catch you?”
“Don't make outlandish suggestions,” Charles says icily. Really, the man's insolence is unpardonable.
Erik shrugs. “I was only asking.”
“What I was trying to say,” Charles takes a deep breath, “is if it had been my father riding along just now, you'd be sacked without a reference. I trust I make myself clear.”
Erik straightens up, the insouciant slant to his shoulders gone. “Perfectly, sir.” His voice is serious as he looks up at Charles.
“Good,” Charles nods at him and rides on. He can feel the man's gaze following him long after he's ridden out of sight.
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Erik is gorgeous. And needs to be disciplined for his behavior!
I AM DYING FROM ANTICIPATION, ANON. WAY TO TURN UP THE HEAT BY MAKING CHARLES A PEEPING TOM AND ERIK A BRAZEN, DEFIANT EXHIBITIONIST.
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Never around when you need the man.
Whinny.
Thinks he get out of doing his work by flaunting his ass at me.
Neigh.
The horse nickers at him softly and Charles laughs to himself. “I know, I know. It isn't very gentlemanly of me to talk like this, but the man infuriates me so.” The horse, Charles really should know its name, just whinnies. Charles pats its neck and goes inside.
There's a trail of sweat down his back, damp and uncomfortable. As soon as he's safely in his own room, he strips down to his drawers and falls upon the bed with a sigh of relief. The room is still too warm. He feels lethargic, sticky and damp with sweat. He should have one of the servants bring up water for a bath, but he's too lazy at the moment. Charles closes his eyes and lets the heat seep over him.
Erik cutting broad strokes through the glistening water. Erik, standing there, the sunlight shining through his shirt, with his cock jutting out from underneath it like it has no reason to hide. Erik turning his back, as though it doesn't matter in the slightest if Charles gazes at his ass.
His cock, Charles licks his lips but keeps his eyes closed, it looked eager, bobbing hungrily, seeking attention. Hard and full, curving upward to his belly, dripping already with pre-come.
Charles's hand eases inside his drawers easily, as he keeps his eyes closed. Taking hold of himself, he strokes his cock quickly, rubbing his thumb over the slit as he thinks about earlier. Imagining it's Erik's cock, he's touching, and tugging, stroking harder and harder. It's all too easy to come simply from thinking about Erik's cock.
As he spills over his belly, Charles sighs in the silence. He wipes his hand on his drawers and falls prey to the drowsy afternoon heat.
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“Yes?” Charles sits up, looking at his hand in disgust. He needs a wash.
“Sir, dinner is ready,” the butler's voice comes through the door.
“I'll be down in a moment.” Charles pushes himself to his feet. He'll wash and change and then dinner.
“Your father is waiting.”
“What?” Charles stops dead in the middle of the room.
“Your father arrived a little over an hour ago, sir. He's waiting dinner.”
“Oh, damn.” Charles stumbles over to the basin and starts washing hurriedly. His head aches from being out in the in the sun, and he's still sweaty and sticky. He washes his face and arms hurriedly, puts on clean drawers and dresses as quickly as possible.
It's not soon enough for his father of course, who eyes him disapprovingly as he sinks into his seat.
“Your cravat is crooked, Charles.”
Charles straightens it automatically. “Sir.”
There's silence as they begin the meal. Charles wonders where his father was, and why he came back early, and when is the right moment to broach the subject of him returning to London for the rest of the summer. He watches his father carefully as he cuts his meat.
“Did you have a good trip?”
“Tolerable.” His father takes a sip of wine. “Charles, while you're here over the summer, I expect you to be prompt for meals. Is that understood?”
“Perfectly, sir.” Charles says automatically. He feels as though he's twelve again and about to be punished for coming to the table with dirty hands. “Sir, I,”
“I also expect you to lend a hand in helping me oversee the estate. The tenants in the hill cottage are behind on their rent. They need to pay, or be evicted. The wall to the north field needs repairing. The gardener will see to that, but the man can be terribly idle if left alone, so you'll have to watch him. And then,”
“I'd like to talk to you about that,” Charles gets in.
“Yes?”
“About me staying for the whole of the summer.”
“What is it, Charles?” His father takes another sip of wine, waiting.
'”It's just...I thought I'd get more studying done if I were in London for the summer, what with the proximity to the libraries and all, and if I want to keep my studies up,” he trails off. The look his father's giving him is not hopeful.
“Charles, you're only at the university because it's what your mother wished you to do. When your studies are done, you'll still be inheriting the title and estate, so it matters very little how you do at them.”
Heat floods Charles's cheeks, but he manages to keep his mouth shut. It won't do any good to speak up, but he can't bear the thought of being here all summer. His father's continuing like he hasn't just crushed his son's hopes. “Besides, you need to be here for the summer, so that I can get the marriage contract completely settled.”
Charles freezes. He must have heard wrong. “Pardon me?”
“It's high time you were married, Charles. I've been in discussion with a few acquaintances with suitable daughters. I can assure you that I will find you a good match by the end of the summer.”
“But I don't...” Charles stutters into silence. He can't believe this.
“Yes, Charles?”
“I don't want to get married.” Charles blurts out.
He has his father's full attention now. Unfortunately, that's never a pleasant thing. “It hardly matters, Charles. You'll get married, and you'll settle down. Is that understood?”
Charles is silent. His hands are clenched tightly against his thighs. He's afraid if he speaks, he'll never be able to stop.
“Charles?” There's a sharp note in his father's voice. “Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.” Charles's voice is barely above a whisper.
The meal is finished in silence.
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Oh well, at least Charles has Erik to keep his mind off of things!
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Oh, no... I foresee a lot of angst. Please, anon, tell me there's lots of porn to counter the angst.
Please update soon!
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Yes, I think "lots" is an appropriate sort of term. *nods*
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YES, YES, YES! I CANNOT WAIT!
I LOVE YOU, ANON!
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“If I may be excused,” he says at last, “I think I'll go for a walk before retiring.”
His father barely nods in acknowledgment. Charles goes out into the corridor. His hands are trembling with rage. The unfairness of it takes his breath away.
He stands in the courtyard, trying to breathe calmly, but there's only despair welling up inside him. His attention is caught by the figure standing outside the stables. Erik is having a smoke in the twilight. He looks across the cobblestones at Charles. It's hard to discern his expression in the dusk, but there's no mistaking the casual disrespect in the man's stance. Charles crosses the courtyard before he's aware that he even intends to approach the man.
“You could start a fire with that.”
“I haven't yet.” Erik points out. He's well away from the stable door, but a stray piece of straw, a bit of sacking, anything could catch easily and the whole of the stables would go up in flames.
“Put it out,” Charles commands.
Erik looks at him, and says “I'd like to see you make me.” He blows a perfect smoke ring up into the night air.
Calmly, Charles takes the cigarette from his fingers and tosses it in the horse's trough.
“That was my last one,” Erik looks at him indignantly.
“Good.” Charles says. His doesn't feel as triumphant as he'd hoped. Erik's just glaring at him, his fists clenched, but not making a move. The man's unwilling to be the first one to cross the line physically. More than willing to do so with his words, Charles thinks bitterly. Wait, that's not true. He'd touched Charles first with the cufflinks. Erik started this.
“If I catch you smoking near the stables again, I'll,”
“You'll what?” Erik leans in insolently.
Charles punches him, or he would have if Erik hadn't caught the blow, propelling him back into the stables. They wrestle awkwardly across the stable floor. Erik gets a blow in, but Charles blocks the next one. They roll over the floor, grasping and pulling at each other.
Erik lands on top the second time. He pins Charles to the floor, nudging a leg between his legs, pressing his knee to Charles's crotch warningly. Charles stills beneath him, panting. Erik's breath is ragged in the silent stable. They stare at each other and everything goes still around them. In this instant, Charles knows Erik is everything he can never have, someone he can want simply because he wants them. Everything his father loathes and wants to keep him from.
So in a moment of desperate childish rebellion, Charles does the unthinkable. He reaches up to kiss Erik, whose mouth moves open in startled surprise, but then he kisses back. Charles's mouth is wet and eager as it devours Erik's. Their tongues meet and dance, caressing each other heatedly.
The knee on his crotch is still there, Charles rubs against it automatically, trying not to groan as he does. Then it shifts and Erik's hand is there instead, palming him through his trousers.
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